


My Lungs Can't Hold this Love I Feel

by Innocentfighter



Series: Lungs [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (probably), Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bat Family, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce is trying, But he's trying, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Drowning, Gang Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Lack of Communication, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Jargon, Medical Procedures, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Organized Crime, POV Jason Todd, Pre-New 52, Resurrected Jason Todd, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Torture, Trust Issues, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15489051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innocentfighter/pseuds/Innocentfighter
Summary: Jason has a bad night, and he might be sort of grateful for his brothers, but there's still a lot of history they haven't unpacked. Hopefully, they'll get the chance to.





	My Lungs Can't Hold this Love I Feel

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written a batman fic, I've written Batman but never centric, which means characterization may be off, hopefully not terribly. I do love Jason Todd, and I've been working on this fic for several months. Tags give a pretty fair warning of what's going on. Please Enjoy!  
> There's a lot of experimentation in dynamics going on and characterization but I like it!

Jason knew that he was going to die tonight. He felt it with the same certainty that he knew right from left. Dying wasn’t the worst part, he knew what death felt like. A person was pulled into inky nothingness. No… the worst part is that once he died, there would be no one to stop these idiots from hurting Damian. As much as he loathed to admit it, he didn’t want to see the kid dead (again). Robin being caught was mostly his fault.

Truthfully Jason knew should have been the responsible adult and sent Damian back to Wayne Manor, or even escorted him there. But, he hadn’t, because he knew that same feeling of wanting to get away from Bruce’s typically overbearing presence or maybe it was because he knew the itch of wanting to prove you can do it on your own, whichever Damian was feeling Jason understood it. He felt sympathy for the demon spawn and then he reasoned that if the kid was with him (and it was looking to be a mild night) there would be less of a chance of something happening.

Given his usually bad luck, Damian would have been better off without him hovering. He cursed that moment of sympathy fiercely when some of Black Mask’s better-hired help had gotten the jump on them. Damian and Jason had put up a fight, but both had missed the sniper in the far apartment building until Jason saw the flash. Instinctively he pushed off towards Robin and wrapped his arms around the young boy seconds before something ripped through his back.

The icy feeling started as they crashed to the ground. It radiated out from what Jason could only suspect was the bullet wound and wet breaths alerted him to a punctured lung. Or, the more optimistic part of him hoped it was residual fluid from his recent bout of pneumonia (a casualty from last month’s escape from Arkham Island with Red Robin).

“Hood, what do you think you’re doing?” Damian snarled from where he was being crushed.

“Keeping you from getting shot,” he growled back, but even to his own ears, it sounded winded and weak.

Damian glared at him harshly, “tt.”

In the chaos from the bullet, Jason had forgotten about the six or so thugs that they had yet to take down and was painfully reminded of them as one slammed his boot into Jason’s face. Then he passed out.

When Jason woke up, that’s when he started to feel the grim reaper slowly closing in on him. He was cold and mostly numb. While he knew his arms were yanked above his head his shoulders weren’t screaming in protest. So, it was either blood loss or shock that he had entered, neither of which seemed conducive to longevity.

He looked around the room, noting with some concern that his vision was blurry. In the darkness, the only thing he could make out was a large glass box and a table with several men playing cards. Slowly Jason craned his neck to the side and jumped in surprise at the white of the Robin mask staring at him.

“I thought you had died.”

 _Well, isn’t he comforting?_ “Not yet, who else is going to give the bat a hard time?”

Damian looked distinctly unimpressed, “you wheeze when you breathe. Are you capable of escape should we find an opening?”

Jason tested the rest of his limbs experimentally. Truthfully, he didn’t think he had that much time left, he was already feeling the deep exhaustion that he had only felt once before. As a clock ticked down to zero. Still, looking at Damian, he felt a fire light in his stomach. Even if this was his final night. He wasn’t going to let this be the kid’s last night.

“Who do you think you’re talking too?” Jason tried for a smirk.

Judging by the disbelieving look that Damian shot him, and he really was Bruce’s son because he had never met anyone else that was that good at conveying disappointment through a mask, Jason had failed to reach comforting or even aggravating.

Their conversation didn’t go unnoticed and the card game was slowly being packed away, and one man moved a chair into the glass box. Even in his hazy state, that struck Jason as odd and settled him with a feeling of foreboding.

“If you get a chance, run and hit your panic button,” Jason hissed. He pitched his voice just to make sure Damian got across this was an order.

Damian pursed his lips, but he nodded his agreement. Jason studied him for a couple of seconds longer. He’d make sure the kid got his opening.

“Now that both of our guests are awake, we can begin,” a woman appeared from the shadows.

That was an annoying habit when he was on the receiving end. Jason was about to shoot back a comment when he saw a metal pipe hanging at the side of one of the goons. It wasn’t a crowbar, but the lethargy that he had been feeling receded at the sight of a similar object, he refused to acknowledge his heart fluttering in panic. Once again, he cursed himself for bringing Damian along... it was stupid of him. Stupid of him to enjoy getting back at the Bat like that.

Damian didn’t need to know the feeling of metal repeatedly slamming into the ribs, not as the price for Jason’s stupidity.

The man with the pipe was making his way towards Damian. Jason growled and tried to shake off the rest of the numbness. That was the moment that his lung stuttered, and blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth.

Apparently, it was a terrifying enough sight that it made the thug back off. The woman sighed and pushed up her glasses.

“What are you waiting for? We have other business to attend to.”

“Hey, you’re the one that said we should wait until Hood woke back up,” the man gestured towards Jason.

“That is because Sir would be displeased with the knowledge that Red Hood did not suffer appropriately.”

“Hitting the kid won’t do that,” Jason said suddenly, “he’s a brat. I might get a kick out of it.”

Damian shot him a look that promised a lot of pain. Jason knew that would just feed into the scenario he was spinning in his head, “yeah, do it. I mean he’s been annoying me, tagging along all night.”

“That’s not-”

“Although, I’m not too sure that Black Mask would want Batman interfering with whatever Mask’s got planned.  He tends to be overprotective of his Robins.”

_Not you, Todd. He let you die on that warehouse floor._

Jason tilted his head, “didn’t you hear about the last idiot that went after a bird?”

Damian seemed to catch on, but he didn’t seem too thrilled with what Jason’s plan was. His scowl deepened, and he tugged at the rope restraints.                                    

“I mean, why waste time with the brat. Your beef is with me, best do something about that before I get out of here,” Jason tried to shrug and then to prove his point he pulled himself up with his shoulders and lashed out with his foot sending the pipe spinning into the air.

The move seemed to unsettle the woman enough and she gestured to someone, the next thing he knew another pipe was striking him across the kidneys, _and that’s where the bullet entered._ Jason didn’t scream, just grunted and then coughed as he slowly stopped swinging. Blood was trickling out of his mouth at an alarming rate; but, he was too dazed to do anything. He felt a blow as it landed on his thigh. A soft moan left his lips.

“Hood!”

He lazily turned his head towards where Robin was kicking furiously at a man who had come near him. Jason knew the brat well enough to know that it wasn't concern lacing his voice. Just surprise.

“Cut him loose, ignore Robin for now. He can’t do much,” the woman ordered, and then she turned back towards Jason, “don’t get any ideas or the boy will die.”

They had seen through his ruse and assumed that he cared about the demon spawn. He was sure he didn’t hate the kid, not in the way that he hated Bruce and Tim and occasionally Dick, but he most assuredly didn’t _care_ about him.

He didn’t care about them- Damian he corrected. There was more freedom to be had if he didn’t have the bats breathing down his neck… Even if he had started coordinating his patrol routes with the Batclan, it was to make his life easier. His lack of killing anyone also didn’t mean anything, he just didn’t need to prove himself to anyone anymore.

He just didn’t need them jumping every time he was around, thinking that he was going to go off the deep end (again).

Jason was dropped to the ground and the pain shocked him into full awareness, the bone in his thigh shifted uncomfortably and for a second he worried about a fracture. His hands were still bound, and he could feel heavy cuffs being closed around his legs. A burly man that smelled like old meat and beer hauled him up and carried him in a crude fireman’s carry.

He was slammed down into a chair. After he spent a few seconds reorienting himself, he realized that he was in the glass box that had been in the center of the room. Jason looked up and saw that there was a water nozzle positioned directly over his head.

_Waterboarding, really?_

Waterboarding was something that Joker had briefly attempted, but Jason’s already delicate system hadn’t handled the cold water. Joker didn’t try it again citing that it wouldn’t do for his guest to die so early into the night.

The cuffs were attached to legs of the chair and his arms were yanked up and over his head before the man tying him up realized that his shoulders weren’t that flexible (could Dick’s even bend like that?). He paid the price of the man’s stupidity as one was yanked out of the socket in the effort, Jason bit his tongue to keep from crying out. The blood flow returned to his arms for a split second as they were untied and readjusted.

The position was mildly uncomfortable, all his injuries throbbed in pain, but it wasn’t the worse Jason had, so he gritted his teeth and dealt with it.

He heard a muffled thud and a yelp and Jason’s eyes snapped open and in the direction that he thought Damian was still suspended in. As he had feared the first man seemed to be taking out his frustration on Damian as the pipe was already primed for another strike.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HIM,” he yelled, fury bubbly in his veins. He quickly delved into a coughing fit and more blood splattered on his ruined jeans.

Jason glared at the offending man, who to his surprise had stopped the downward arc. The man who had finished with his ropes had taken a step back in surprise. He narrowed his eyes further and the pipe tipped backward out of the offender's grip. Seizing control of his anger Jason pulled his lips back to show his bloody teeth and turned his gaze to the person closest to him.

Which sent the man backpedaling out of the box. For the first time, the woman looked obviously frightened, her glasses had slipped down her face. She fixed them with practice ease and motioned for the door to be shut. It left Jason in a relatively quiet area. The faint sounds of traffic were cut off.

“What? Solitary confinement? Lame,” he chuckled, swallowing the blood this time.

“How are the lungs, Hood?” The woman smirked, her confidence was clearly bolstered by the state Jason was in and the fact he was trussed up in a box he had no hope to escape.

Jason frowned, unsure of why she was asking the question. He was sure that he knew that he had been shot, but the bullet had only punctured one lung.

The woman noticed his confusion, and she referred to a clipboard, “you saw Dr. Leslie Thompkins for pneumonia a few weeks ago, correct?”

“What did you do to her?” Jason yelled, tugging at his restraints. Dr. Leslie would never give information out like that willingly, which lead to only one conclusion and he was going to kill these people even if it would kill him. He’d drag his broken body from hell to kill them (it wouldn’t be the first time). The old doctor had done nothing wrong.

“Don’t exert yourself, you’ll only exasperate those injuries,” the woman replied calmly, “we did nothing to the doctor, it would be unhelpful if we did. No, it was a mere coincidence that one of our men overheard the conversation.”

It calmed his rage somewhat, but now he felt a pit form in his stomach. He wasn’t going to be beaten to death. Jason looked back up at the nozzle on the roof of the box, and then back to Damian. _No._

“Put the pieces together Red Hood?” The woman taunted, and then snapped her fingers.

One of the thugs move forward and turned a handle on the outside of the box. Cold water began to spray down on his head and he was drenched in seconds. Jason’s already chilled body started to shake violently trying to generate some warmth. A minute passed, time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, but the water was already to the middle of his calf.

The chill was sharpening his thoughts, but he knew it would only be for a couple of seconds before they would dissolve into confusion. He calculated that he had about three minutes before his head would be underwater.

There was no way out of this.

He was going to die, and no one was going to come and save him.

He could only hope that Damian took the distraction of him drowning as a sign to escape. Bruce would come for his flesh-and-blood son. Jason would just be given enough thought to have his helmet placed back on his head before he was taken to be buried in a pauper’s grave in Gotham’s cemetery.

It was a consoling thought that Bruce probably still thought of him as his dead son (the dead Robin) and left him a tombstone in the Wayne private cemetery. At least in a hundred years, someone could think that he had a family that cared about him.

Somewhere in the distance, over the sound of the rain and _wait wasn’t I indoors? Why is it raining inside?_ He could hear someone yelling, it sounded like Hood, but it could have also been Todd.

He was both Red Hood and Jason Todd. So apparently, they were trying to talk to him. _Why?_

Something cold started to put pressure on his chest and he frowned in confusion, he looked down and saw water start to turn red.

 _No._ He shook his head. _It’s from earlier. I was injured. That’s blood._

The red was spreading at an alarming rate, and he thought that it was fitting that he would die in red water considering his name was Red Hood.

Speaking of his name, someone was still yelling it. With a tantamount effort, he pushed his eyelids open, not sure when he had closed them and lifted his head.

A kid was banging on the case. Jason frowned, wondering where he had come from.

_Demon Spawn. Damian. Why is he here?_

Jason could tell that his lips were forming words, but he didn’t understand them until they came to his name. He still couldn’t tell if he was saying, Hood or Todd. Frankly, he didn’t care. Maybe he should, but he was cold and tired.

His eyes slipped shut and the water hit his chin. Keeping his head raised was too much energy and he let it drop forward and now his lips were submerged and his nose was skimming the surface. There was banging, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at what was keeping him awake. He ignored it.

That was something he was always good at. Bruce told him so. Where was Bruce? He was dying. He wanted his dad. Jason tensed at the thought, but then let it float away. He wanted his dad because he was tired and cold.

The water entered his nose and he inhaled it before he launched into a coughing fit. His head tilted back as some of his survival instinct returned. As the water entered his ears, he held his breath. After only a couple of seconds, he was forced to let it go because of the fire in his lungs. He tried again, and this time the water covered his face, so he knew that whatever air he had managed to suck in, was going to be the last he ever inhaled.

The time he was able to hold his breath was laughably short and he was forced to exhale when the pain became too great. He fought his instincts to breathe in and failed. Jason thrashed as the cold water entered his lungs. He kept breathing in and out in an attempt to get the water out from his lungs.

_He just wanted air._

Jason didn’t remember when he passed out.

* * *

 

Jason convulsed as his chest erupted in pain and red water was ripped from his lungs. He knew he had been turned on his side because the water wasn’t choking him again. It was a surprise to find that he had been turned on his side, but he wasn’t sure by who. Truthfully, he didn’t care, he was grateful for small mercies.

Drowning once was enough, thank you very much.

There was something rubbing his head, and he forced his eyes open. Terrified blue eyes snapped into focus before relief shimmered in them.

Dark green eyes entered his vision a second later, and they didn’t look as terrified, but there was an emotion in them that Jason was too tired to decipher.

A second pair of blue eyes pushed into the top part of his field of vision and his eyes darted to them. They were also terrified.

It was becoming enough of a trend that he worried that he needed to be terrified.

Wait.

No.

Jason knew that he knew these people, and he couldn't think of their names. They were important to him, so he wasn’t sure why he couldn’t remember who they were. Were they terrified _of_ him or _for_ him? He thought it made more sense for it to be the former… then why were they…?

There was something else wrong.

Someone was missing. The person that he wanted the most, was missing. He tried to push himself up in panic. He needed that person. That person. There was something he needed to tell him. Had to find him.

A pair of blue-gray eyes entered his vision and Jason felt himself relax. A smile formed on his face, and he felt his lips move and he wasn’t entirely sure if he had made a sound. He knew what he tried to say, and he could only hope that he said it.

With that he started to slip back into that nothingness, watching as four pairs of eyes light up in that same emotion. One that he couldn’t be bothered to remember. He knew that it was important that he should.

* * *

Waking up was confusing. He was warm and floaty it was nice compared to his last memories of being cold and struggling to breathe. There was something blocking his nose, and he remembered not having air. He struggled against his heavy limbs to remove whatever was blocking his nose.

Something grabbed his shoulder and reflexively he raised his arm to throw the attacker off only to gasp when something was pulled from his hand. Jason opened his eyes only to be blinded by white and just as he got used to seeing again his hearing decided to work again.

“Jason! You’re safe. Calm down, just breathe.”

If it had been at another moment, Jason would have punched the person saying it. As it stood, he never thought that he would be so relieved upon hearing Dick’s voice. He fought with himself to calm down and regulate his breathing slowly becoming aware that he was no longer in the drowning box. In fact, it felt like he had air being forced into his lungs periodically.

He took his time calming down to study Dick. The older hero was paler than normal, and dark bruises highlighted his usually bright eyes. Jason frowned, Dick’s eyes were red (from sleep exhaustion, because why would he be crying over Jason?) making his blue eyes an unearthly shade. Dick seemed to be studying him as well before the tenseness in his shoulders went out and a tight smile formed across his face.

“We finally kick Bruce out, and you wake up not even an hour later,” Dick chuckled, “you really do live to annoy him.”

Jason stared in confusion. He didn’t understand why they would have to kick Bruce out. Hell, he wasn’t even sure where Bruce was being kicked out of. There were vague flashes of colors and emotion, but he pushed them out of his head. He knew that one word was still echoing in his head and he couldn’t remember if he had said it.

Instead, he looked to Dick for answers, his throat still felt scratchy and he didn’t trust his voice to work.

“You’ve been out for three days,” Dick began the explanation, “no one wanted to leave you, but Tim and Damian have school. I’ve been sleeping in the chair, but Bruce he stayed awake the entire time.”

Jason made a noise of confusion. He knew that he had likely passed out because he didn’t have enough air, but apparently, they had responded in time. So, the clinginess was a little confusing.

“You _drowned_ Jason,” Dick ran a hand through his hair, “we didn’t think there was a way to get you back, Damian had told us how long you had been under.”

Jason cleared his throat, “then why do I also feel like I was also shot?”

“You were, it collapsed your lung.”

“Ah.”

He could feel the start of sleep’s pull.

“Sleep, we’ll talk later.”

* * *

The next time he came to he was more awake and feeling like himself. Jason remembered what happened, having woken himself up from a nightmare. He took stock of what he could without opening his eyes and letting anyone know that he had woken up. There was a pressure on his undamaged side, along with warmth and there were three sets of deep even breaths.

He felt like he wasn’t in danger, he opened both eyes only to be met with a dimly glowing room. He shifted his eyes over to see that it was the monitor that was casting the light over the room, and then he noticed that one of his hands were sweaty. Wrinkling his nose, he turned his head only to be met with the person he probably wanted to see the least.

“Jason,” he breathed.

_Oh no. I’m not even remotely prepared for this._

“Thank god.”

 _What._ Jason blinked, and then spoke, “what?”

Bruce made a shushing gesture, and Jason was just about to ask why again when he decided to investigate who else was in the room with him. Dick was in the same chair he had been earlier, head pressed against his chest deep asleep. Next to Dick was Tim, who had fallen asleep against his brother’s shoulder. Not having seen him until now he could tell that Tim was in an exhausted state like Dick, only he couldn’t see any obvious signs of tears. Jason tilted his head down to be met with a mop of black hair and small body that he could only identify to be Damian.

Which was odd? Damian hated to be touched and here he was practically pressed into his side. It was kind of cute how Damian had his shirt held tightly in his hand, but also it was Damian, so he was unsettled because he thought Damian was acting like a child (in a nonnegative way).

He turned back to Bruce, who had this sappy look on his face. Jason decided that he didn’t want to start something and wake the others up. They’d obviously been undergoing a lot of stress.

Nearly losing Damian was probably what pushed them to this state and now their guilt was focusing on him. Jason knew this game well enough. Bruce _always_ reached out to him after a tragedy in the family reminded him of failing Jason.

He closed his eyes and after a long time, he finally fell back asleep.

* * *

Somehow, the... his brothers, and he admitted to himself that the word is weird but it's nice, and it’s only in his head, were herded from the room. Bruce gripped his hand again or still. Jason arched an eyebrow, and Bruce sighed and then explained.

“No one noticed that Damian was gone until about two in the morning.”

_Jesus Bruce, how can people call you the world’s greatest detective? It must have been a miracle for you to find me- my body._

“Alfred and Barbara were in the cave helping us with a fire that Ivy accidentally started when one of her plants were cut down and it burst electrical wires.”

Jason vaguely remembers hearing that Ivy was free and knew it was only a matter of time before she started trouble. It didn’t explain much, and he didn’t much care about the backstory. Obviously, Bruce got the hint.

“When we did realize that Damian was gone it was because he had hit the panic button. Apparently, he used a distraction to get out of his bindings and call for help.

“His comm was down so we had no idea what we were going into, only that he kept pressing the button.”

Jason thought whimsically for a couple of seconds that Damian kept pressing the button out of panic for him. It was probably just to alert them that the situation dire. He knew where he stood in the Batclan and he knew Damian wasn’t prone to panic.

“When we arrived, he had just managed to break the glass,” there was no need to explain what glass, “but he couldn’t get the opening big enough to get to you. The water wasn’t draining.”

_Not that it would have made a difference._

“Dick and Tim were able to pull you out, but-”

“But what?” Jason asked.

“You didn’t have a pulse and you weren’t breathing. You were cold,” Bruce swallowed, “you were dead.”

_That explains the clinginess, they don’t want me going rabid again._

“Dick did CPR for almost three minutes before we restarted your heart, the first time.”

“Did I wake up?”

“Once,” nodded Bruce, “but it was only for a couple of seconds and you were out of it. You crashed again.”

Jason grimaced, “sorry I got Robin mixed up in that.”

Bruce stilled. He opened and closed his mouth for a couple of seconds, “what?”

Jason was surprised he had made the Great Batman speechless. _I know an advantage when I see one._

“That’s what you were about to lecture me on right?” Jason spat, he didn’t like that he didn’t know where he stood with Bruce, “that I got one of your team mixed up in this?”

“Jason, what the hell?” Dick had returned _I’m losing my edge if I missed him entering_ , “do you honestly think we’d care more about that than you dying?”

“Yes?” Jason snorted, “he’s Robin, I’m a _crime lord_ who _kills_ people.”

Dick blinked several times and Bruce was in a similar state of shock. Jason had managed to shut both up which was a practically unheard-of victory.

Tim shoved Dick aside. Evidently, he hadn’t heard Jason’s comment and grinned brightly.

“Jason!”

“Has he awoken?” A higher pitched voice called from the hallway.

Suddenly Damian entered the room, and his eyes met Jason’s. He was relieved to see that the youngest was unharmed and glad to see that he was acting more like himself, and not terrified. Or clingy.

Damian seemed unsure, but he quickly leaped up into the bed and settled himself against Jason’s side like he had been last (?) night. He had a feeling that this was a familiar place for him.

Since he had technically died in front of him, Jason didn’t feel like chasing him away. He’d just adjust to the temporary clinginess, even though it weirded him out. _It won’t last anyway, as soon as they’re sure I’m not feral the bat-clan will go back to passively hating me._

“Master Tim, Master Damian, there was no need to rush,” a third voice called from the hallway.

Jason felt pleased to know that Alfred had come. At least as a chaperone. He looked at Dick and Bruce again. Dick seemed like he was willing to drop the topic they had been discussing for now, because he had this stupid dopey smile on his face. Bruce on the other hand look like his brain was restarting.

“Ah, Jason,” he knew that voice.

Wasn’t there a room capacity limit? He felt like they had already surpassed it and it started to feel like the walls were closing in around him. There were too many well-trained unknowns in this room and minimal ways for him to escape.

_Ah, damn. Maybe I am going pit-crazy again? Bruce wouldn’t lie to me about using the pit, would he? No, not even Bruce would go that far._

Dr. Leslie appeared from behind the curtain, she smiled, “glad to see you’re awake. Now that you won’t pass out in two minutes, I need to ask you questions.”

“The rest of you, clear out for a little while.”

_Thank you, Dr. Leslie._

There was a loud chorus of protests, but Dr. Leslie held her ground.

Alfred, with the powers he possessed that Jason still doesn’t understand, managed to push Tim and Dick out of the room before he raised an eyebrow at Bruce. Bruce had recovered enough to know that it wasn’t time for that argument.

Damian didn’t move, and it almost seemed like he burrowed himself deeper into Jason’s side. He sighed and made a mental note to not drown in front of anyone again if they were going to cling to him out of some misplaced guilt.

“Demon Spawn can stay,” Jason found himself breathing, “he can help fill in the details.”

Dr. Leslie smiled in that way of hers that let him know she didn’t believe him, but everyone else seemed to take that at face value and Damian stopped tugging on his shirt as he relaxed.

After the door was shut Dr. Leslie turned to him.

“A dislocated shoulder, a punctured lung, a ruptured kidney, a fractured femur, broken ribs,” she began to read, “extensive internal bleeding, fluid in the lungs, and hypoxia”

Jason winced, but Dr. Leslie wasn’t done, “did I mention how badly your lungs are compromised now? There’s a very real chance your pneumonia could return.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on drowning,” Jason mumbled.

“I see the brain damage is minimal, which is a miracle of miracles, on top of CPR actually restoring your heart rate after being clinically dead for 8 minutes.”

Jason looked away, it wasn’t his idea. He wasn’t sure why he was being yelled at.

“Why were you even on patrol? You had only just finished the antibiotics. Even before this, you didn’t have full capacity.”

“Sorry.”

Damian looked up sharply but didn’t say anything.

“I’m not the one that you have to apologize to,” Dr. Leslie said, “I was only telling you the risks and consequences of your actions. I doubt you’ll have full lung capacity again.”

“I’ll stop smoking,” he was loathed to do it, but it was the only way he could think to appease her. And, it might get him in Alfred’s good graces at least until he was able to move around on his own again. Damian raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a start,” Dr. Leslie nodded, “now how are you feeling?”

Jason thought about that question, “my chest is a little tight. Deep breaths hurt, can’t say I’m in any pain.”

“Good, it’s very impressive considering Dick had to break ribs.”

She made a few more notes on her clipboard, “I want to keep you here for a couple of days to watch your O2 sat. and make sure that your pneumonia doesn’t make a return visit. After that, you are to stay with someone while the rest of your injuries recover. You may need oxygen going home, at least until we determine the extent of the damage.”

Jason nodded, “can you wait a couple of minutes before sending everyone in? I haven’t been alone since I started regaining consciousness.”

Dr. Leslie smiled kindly and stepped out of the room. Jason inhaled deeply, glad of the quiet and then he looked down at Damian who was glaring at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you glaring at me?”

Damian sat up and crossed his arms, “I find encouraging your own demise is a waste of time and energy and recommend you cease this action.”

_The kid is fine if he can talk like that._

“It almost sounds like you care.”

Damian frowned and didn’t say anything for several seconds, “I am relieved that you did not die. Father and Grayson would not have recovered, and Drake would have been even more insufferable.”

“It’ll take a lot more than water to take me down,” Jason smirked.

Damian just raised an eyebrow at him, “you were clinically dead for 8 minutes, or did you not understand that?”

Jason’s face fell, “no that’s pretty loud and clear. Guess I’m going back to being the dead Robin.”

“Todd!” Damian snapped, “do not treat your existence lightly. Your life carries more weight than you would like to think!”

That time he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to argue with a twelve-year-old over whether his life had meaning.  Damian didn’t press. Only a couple of seconds passed before Damian was pressed against his side again.

“Did you speak truthfully when you said you would stop smoking?”

Jason hesitated as he wondered where he should put his hand, “yeah, I only started because it pissed Bruce off so much.”

“I do not understand you.”                                                                                                                     

He chuckled at that, “not many people do, Demon Spawn.”       

Damian scrunched up his face, “no, your behavior is such that father should hate you, which you appear to strive for, and yet when you were dying you called for him.”

Jason felt his face go slack. He had really hoped that it was a dream, or no one understood his death-gurgles. That means _Bruce_ heard it.

 _Oh no._ He needed to go now.

Damian was glaring at him. It was enough to make Jason back down out of his flight instincts. He’d have to bide his time and wait until he’s alone. If Bruce or Dick sensed any willingness in him to return to the family… no. He wouldn’t allow himself to be injured like that when they finally decided his sins were too much for them to bear.

When they learned how much blood was on his hands.

“You care too much for someone who claims to hate father,” Damian mumbled.

Jason scowled and turned away from the kid. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.

* * *

Jason smirked as Roy climbed through the window. The archer looked like he just woke up, which Jason knew to be the case, and he looked like he was about to kill Jason, which was probably also the case.

“It is three in the morning,” Roy growled, “Lian is _finally_ sleeping through the night, and you call me at three a.m. to help you get out of a clinic?”

Jason chuckled, “if I had another choice, I’d do it myself.”

Roy sighed, “from your text you made it sound like a threat to your life.”

“Trust me,” Jason’s voice deepened, “if I have to spend any more time with the Bats, it will be.”

“Fair enough,” Roy shrugged and closed the distance between them, “but once you’re healed you owe me three cumulative weeks of babysitting.”

Jason scoffed and wrapped his good arm around Roy’s neck, “you want me near your child?”

Roy is careful around his hips as he helped Jason to stand, “she adores you, _and_ you’ve watched her before and only put three bullet holes in my wall.”

“To be fair,” Jason grunts in pain, “at least two of them are the assassin’s fault.”

Jason couldn’t see the eye roll, but he knew it had occurred. Benefits of knowing someone for years. Their first few steps were awkward experiments that tried to determine how much jostling Jason could tolerate. The ribs and shoulder weren’t severe injuries, uncomfortable to twist but bearable. It was the leg that gave him the most trouble, he was pretty sure it would hold his weight, but only for a second before the pain would make his leg give out.

Thankfully no one in the clinic was awake, and there would be very few people on the streets this late. The only people up this late were either Bats or criminals, neither of which were groups that he and Roy needed to run into.

"You notice any bats or birds out tonight?” Jason asked.

“Not visually, but I’m sure they’re lurking, although reportedly Scarecrow is about to be very distracting downtown.”

“Fear toxic, gross,” Jason wrinkled his nose, “but they’ll be occupied and far away.”

“A new toxin,” Roy reminded him, “with that shit he picked up from Bane.”

Jason tensed, “I should have been there tonight.”

“I’ll head that way, see what’s to see,” Roy replied, “and I’ll add another two weeks to your tab, four if it’s a bust.”

“Well, for once the Rogues won’t let me down,” Jason mumbled.

Roy climbed out of the window first, and Jason paused while he determined the least painful way to maneuver out of the window. He already knew his leg couldn’t hold his weight, even with the immobilizer wrapped around his leg and he didn’t want to risk damaging the plate holding his bone together.

“You got it?” Roy asked.

“Probably,” Jason responded, “why couldn’t they have broken my arm instead?”

“Maybe you should put it in their Yelp review,” Roy chirped, “one-star, broken leg during torture is too inconvenient. Did not consider my career in vigilantism.”

Jason sighed and then grit his teeth as he leaned against the wall and grabbed his thigh with his hands before he lifted the leg and then forced himself to straddle the window. He bit his tongue to keep any sound that he might have made quiet. Roy offered him a studying hand on his side. Jason balanced himself in a sitting position before he dropped down and landed on his good leg.

It still jarred his broken leg, but it was much better than the alternative. He gasped and staggered forward. Roy was quick to catch Jason and replace himself under Jason’s good arm.

“Let’s get you to your safe house,” Roy walked slower down the alley than he did in the room, “which one do you want to go to?”

"The new one,” Jason replied, “the one in Blüdhaven.”

Roy nodded and adjusted his grip, “at least I don’t have to do too much backtracking. Why break in the new one?”

“You know why,” Jason growled.

Thankfully Roy dropped it, and the rest of the walk to the (probably stolen) car was in silence. Jason flopped into the back seat, which was still too small for his legs to lay completely straight. It was close enough, and for the short duration he would be in the position meant it wouldn’t matter.

Roy wasn’t too chatty while driving, too focused on the police report of Scarecrow’s attack on Gotham Proper, near the hospital. Jason wished he could beat sense into the criminal, but even he knew that was impossible. Dr. Leslie was going to kill him as it was, and there was no reason to rush his second death. He was not looking forward to the call he would get.

_Speaking of calls…_

Jason popped open the tray of his phone and crushed the sim card. He tossed the shattered pieces out of the window. Even Tim wouldn’t be able to track him from those remains, he could in theory track Jason from the tracker in his boot, but only the Outlaws knew about that. Unless Roy was a traitor.

“You tell anyone about this and I get a week of babysitting taken off.”

Roy’s eyes caught his in the review mirror, “a hard bargain.”

“Yeah, well, I doubt the Bats are going to ask you where I went, but on the off chance.”

“You never leave anything to chance; how can you claim you’re not a Bat?”

Jason raised an eyebrow, which was all the answer that Roy needed. If he was a Bat, the second he had been stable he would have been moved into the manor. Instead, he got to spend the night with whoever else was in Dr. Leslie’s clinic.

Which he would have to be extra careful about using in the future if anyone could overhear his illnesses or injuries.

“Why the rush?” Roy asked suddenly.

“Too exposed,” said Jason.

“Ah.”

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence. Jason could tell when they were getting close to his safehouse. It was one of his nicer ones, he had gotten it because of it’s proximity to Dick’s usual trouble areas, which meant that the Bats would only be around that area if there was a serious problem and Jason didn’t plan on sticking around any time Dick was on patrol.

The Bats were too damned good at finding people who didn’t want to be found.

Jason gave it three days before they called off the search for him. Who knew maybe they would surprise him and still be searching for him a week later.

“This shit with Scarecrow sounds nasty.”

Jason had been halfheartedly listening to the report, “it’s got something of Bane’s mixed it with it, that means it takes two types of antidote, and my guess is that he changed the formula to compensate, which means the Bats have to be even more careful until a new antidote is synthesized by Red Robin.”

 Roy snickered, “ohh, look at you, you paid attention to Batman’s last briefing.”

 Jason narrowed his eyes, “you don’t know what was in that meeting.”

 “I know that wasn’t you speaking.”

 “Who else could it be?” Jason replied curtly.

 "A Robin.”

 Jason glared.

Roy flipped his fingers up from the wheel in a gesture of surrender. Jason glared at him a little longer before settling back down into the seat. Truthfully, he had been paying slightly more attention to briefing because he would be filling in for Red Robin whenever the attack came, which also meant he was on Damian duty.

 The irony was not lost on him now.

 … He was also mildly concerned about who they called in to fill the gap in the formation. It would usually be Spoiler or Black Bat, neither of which were in Gotham currently. Bruce wouldn’t call in a leaguer which meant… Jason shook his head. Roy would get over their soon enough, and he trusted Roy with his life, so it’d have to be good enough.

 “Here.”

 Jason jolted in surprise. He had been lost in his thoughts, Roy seemed to know where they had been.

 “Don’t worry,”

 “That you aren’t going to drop me while we get up these steps?” Jason pursed his lips, “sorry but you just don’t inspire that confidence in me.”

 "Hey, I have more upper body strength than you,” Roy pouted, “you’re just big.”

 Jason waggled his eyebrows and Roy rolled his eyes.

 “Can we hurry? Painkillers are wearing off.”

 It took them several minutes to navigate the steps. Jason was breathing heavily through the pain by the time they finally reached his apartment. Roy watched him with concern, and Jason knew that he was sweating.

 “Are you-”

 “I’ve had worse,” Jason replied, a little too aggressive.

 “But-”

 “Scarecrow?” Jason reminded.

 Roy narrowed his eyes before he nodded, “call _someone_ if it gets worse.”

 Jason waved his hand, “just get me to the couch.”

 Again, Jason was reminded of how beaten his body was and he felt like a fever was developing. He hoped that it was just a fever and not because of his pneumonia had returned. By the time he was situated on the couch, he trembled with exhaustion.

 “Jason are you sure?”

 “Yes, go, Scarecrow, downtown Gotham.” Jason shooed him away.

 for a moment, Roy looked him up and down before he stepped back and headed out of the room and towards the door. Once he was sure that door had shut Jason reached for the remote and turned on a news station then he reached in the drawer and pulled out a bottle of painkillers he had lifted from a minor drug bust (they could have also been from Alfred’s med-kit because it was the good shit). The apartment felt strangely cold and he reached for a blanket only to find that he hadn’t stocked this place with one. He sighed and curled up as much as his injuries would allow.

The station was playing live footage from the Scarecrow incident. There were broken windows and a few more potholes, but it didn’t seem like this fear toxin didn’t make people violent. Jason raised an eyebrow, he would have thought with the bane venom mixture it would have been the opposite. The cameraman zoomed in on a group of civilians curled behind a police cruiser, one was rocking back and forth clutching her knees.

“As you can see, the GCPD have managed to keep the contamination zone to only a few blocks, and Robin and Red Robin’s timely arrival managed to clear most of the civilians from the impact zone,” the newscaster said.

“Look atcha go, Team Replacement and Demon Spawn,” Jason murmured.

He frowned, Red Robin wasn’t meant to be on scene. _Shit, they’re gonna have to create an antidote while under the effects._

Jason winced, there had been a few nights where he and Bruce had to solve a problem while poisoned by Ivy or Joker Venom was coursing through their veins, but there wasn’t a time when Batman was careless enough to let Robin get dosed with fear toxin without having the antidote prepped. Although this time the toxin might have to be directly administered to the bloodstream for it to be potent, it was believable to get a couple dozen civilians with small needle pricks, but the Bats would prove harder; at the very least their full body suits would keep them safe.

The camera blurred and then focused on a rooftop fight. Batman was ducking under one of Scarecrow’s goon’s punches. Nightwing flipped over a kick and brought one of his escrima sticks down on his opponent’s shoulder. Even from the distance of the camera, Jason could tell that it was a devastating blow, the man’s collarbone was likely shattered. _Bet B-man won’t yell at him for that._

Batman pushed his opponent away, which caused the goon to stumble and go over the edge of the building. Jason quirked an eyebrow, it was rare, but it happened that accidents like that happened in the “crusade;” except Batman didn’t send his corded bolas down to wrap around the goon’s ankles to keep him from plummeting to his death. Red Robin swung from somewhere and caught the man seconds before he crashed into the concrete. It was rare for things to get that deadly, but it was unheard of for the Bat to try and not save them.

Something was very wrong.

“It appears that neither Batman nor Nightwing has yet to see the danger that Robin is in, fighting against Scarecrow.”

 _What?_ Jason straightened and winced as he twisted his torso wrong. _No way he’d let Demon fight a “run, do not engage” by himself when he’s right there, unless…_

Jason bolted upright, a cry left his lips as pain raced up his torso. Batman wouldn’t let Robin fight a villain like that unless he wasn’t in his right mind, and that meant he was dosed with fear toxin. Nightwing too, by the looks of things. He wasn’t sure about Robin or Red Robin, Jason figured Robin was fine otherwise he wouldn’t be so boldly attacking the biggest threat in the battle; more than likely Red Robin hadn’t been dosed either otherwise that man would have been a smear on the pavement. How were they dosed?

Nightwing locked his legs around the neck of one of the goons and flipped him over, again Jason could see the strength put into that move. The man probably wasn’t dead, too many years of no-kill conditioning but he could have a broken back. Jason bit his bottom lip, Bats and Wing were definitely hopped up on the new shit. That meant a) Roy might have to subdue them and he doesn’t know and b) Replacement and Demon Spawn were on their own against Scarecrow. He was sure that the two could take care of themselves, they wouldn’t be alive if they couldn’t (don’t dwell on _that_ Todd) but they would be overwhelmed.

_Oracle!_

Jason reached for his phone only to realize that he had crushed the sim card. There was a landline in the kitchen, but that was several feet away across space with very little support for him if he lost his balance. The good news was that the painkillers had kicked in, so most of his injuries throbbed, but didn’t hurt. Another near miss from a goon falling off the roof had Jason on his feet. He breathed through the dizziness and stumbled towards the phone.

Yeah, he lifted the meds from Alfred.

He stumbled and fell, he felt the impact but not as harshly as he should. Jason shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. It would be a problem for him in the future but for right now it was a dull ache. _I’ll blame Bruce’s bad injury habits._

Finally, he made it to the phone. The room spun at a nauseating pace and Jason had to press his head against the wall to steady him as he tried to remember the secret number to contact Oracle in a “Red Hood emergency, as in you’re dying.” He didn’t think she had forgiven him for what he did to Damian just to hurt Dick, which was fair.

“What Hood?” Oracle snapped, “shouldn’t you been resting?”

“Y’know, Bats and Wing- “

“Yes, I know they’re under the effects of the fear toxin,” Oracle replied, “if that’s all.”

Jason shook his head, “no, I just- is there an antidote?”

Oracle didn’t respond for several seconds. Jason heard her talking in the background, likely to Replacement or Demon Spawn and her voice was pitched differently. She was _worried._ His pulse skyrocketed.

“There is, but Red Robin says it has no effect.”

“Did you account for the Bane venom or that it was directly inserted into the bloodstream?” Jason tilted his head in thought.

He heard the click of keys and leaned against the wall as a spike of drowsiness washed over him. Once he was sure that B-man and Wing would be fine he’d get back to the couch… or maybe he’d just sleep on the floor. It looked comfortable enough.

“Bane?” Oracle asked.

“Scarecrow bought some shit from him, real black-market deal,” Jason slurred, “several shipments over months.”

“We didn’t know,” Oracle frowned, “how did you know?”

Jason smirked, “I’m privy to loose-lipped criminals, being one and all. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”

There was more clicking, and a distant conversation and the Oracle returned to his call, “do you know the counter to it?”

“No, I only know what’s in it,” Jason replied, “didn’t I tell you guys this? Wait, no I only told Bruce…”

“And he kept it secret?” Oracle replied.

 Jason frowned, it didn’t sound like something Bruce would do especially if his kids would be near it but, “consider the source.”

“He believes in you Jason,” Oracle replied automatically.

“But he doesn’t believe me,” Jason’s lips twitched down.

“Red Robin says that he thinks that whatever Bane sold Scarecrow must be causing Batman and Nightwing to burn off the antidote before it can work,” Oracle repeats.

“So, you need whatever it is that B uses to calm Bane’s goons down,” Jason finished.

“It’s not standard equipment.”

_Not since Bane basically went off the grid into drug trafficking._

“Heavy sedatives?” Jason frowned, “let them work through it on their own?”

"That might work,” Oracle tapped several more keys, “Red Robin says he’ll try it.”

Jason hummed, the spinning room was back and as was the drowsiness. This time he couldn’t fight it off. The apartment was no longer cold; instead, it felt like he was melting.

_Uh-oh._

“Good luck,” he mumbled and hung up the phone.

He didn’t remember when he hit the floor.

* * *

“Jason?”

The name was his, but he wasn’t sure who said it. The room was swimming and blurry.

"Jaylad?”

That was Bruce, but where was he? It didn’t feel right for him to be here.

“He’s delirious, the fever is dangerously high still.”

He knew that voice.

* * *

“We’ve managed to lower the fever, but it hasn’t broken yet.”

It was the same voice from before. The last one he heard.

“But he’ll be okay?”

The voice annoyed him, but it wasn’t Bruce? Had Bruce been in his room?

“If the fever breaks soon, yes.”

Jason looked around the room but couldn’t focus on anything. He felt hot.

“And if it doesn’t?”

He fell back asleep.

* * *

The third(?) time Jason woke up, he was much more aware, or aware of the pain rather. A small groan left his lips, and he shifted only to wince at the burning sensation from his leg.

“Welcome back, Jason.”

Dr. Leslie face belied her kind words. Jason grimaced and looked around the room, it was empty sans him. He wasn’t sure why it hurt so much that his family wasn’t here but at the same time he sorts of expected it, this time all his problems were caused by himself. Dr. Leslie frowned at him and looked at his clipboard.

"There was a reason I asked you to stay for a couple of days past the surgery. To make sure there were no complications from the surgery and your lungs.

Jason shrugged, “I felt fine when I checked out.”

“The infection hadn’t displayed symptoms yet,” Dr. Leslie responded.

“Infection of what? My lungs feel fine.” Jason shifted on the bed.

“There’s an acute infection developing in your femur,” she said, “it’s rare, but when we did the surgery, bacteria happened to get into the open wound. Unfortunately, we can’t guarantee a completely sterile surgery room as a free clinic, since we aren’t supposed to perform that serious of a surgery.”

"You make exceptions for the Bats?” Jason huffed.

Dr. Leslie smiled, “I make exceptions for supposedly dead wards of billionaires.”

“That’s… Fair,” Jason frowned.

The doctor nodded and then checked his vitals and restarted an IV drip. Jason could only guess that it was the antibiotics since he didn’t feel dehydrated. He watched Dr. Leslie fiddle with the flow speed for several seconds before she stepped back.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on you,” Dr. Leslie headed towards the door.

Jason watched her leave and once he saw the sliding glass panels he realized he wasn’t in the clinic but in the Cave’s medical bay. He tilted his head wondering how they had managed to get him to cave, and more importantly how someone had found his new safehouse. Oracle would have been busy with watching the Bat v Scarecrow fight to track where he had been calling from and he was sure that the phone number was unlisted. He doubted they would care enough to have tracked him using nothing more than video camera footage he was sure was scarce.

Why would they even look for him?

The door slid open and Jason turned his head away from the opening. He didn’t need one of Bruce’s famous lectures. He heard footsteps, which was odd, but he kept his eyes firmly attached to the ceiling. After several seconds of silence, Jason’s curiosity won out and he turned his head. To his surprise, Tim sat down in the chair next to the head of the bed; he was staring at a tablet and apparently unaware that Jason was awake.

“So, who broke into my apartment?”

Tim didn’t jump, but he calmly lowered the tablet.  His eyebrow was arched neatly a nearly perfect copy of Alfred’s _Look._

“I did.”

Jason snorted, “of course it was you.”

Tim’s face was blank, and Jason felt the hair on his arms raise, “no one could get ahold of you for three days.”

_What?_

“There’s no way,” Jason deflected.

“Oracle told me that you called and helped out with the Scarecrow incident downtown and then hung up abruptly,” Tim explained, “and then when I called Dr. Thompkins, she said you weren’t in your bed.”

Jason shrugged, “so what? I went home early.”

Alfred had to mentoring Tim in his facial expressions because that was a mirror image of the _are you an idiot?_ look, “and it nearly cost you your life. Your temperature was almost 105 degrees.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Tim sighed and leaned against the back of the chair, “I know you have, but that doesn’t mean you can ignore your health.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Jason scowled, “it’s a Bat Trait.”

“Bruce and Dick were out of their minds with worry when they realized nobody knew where you were,” Tim crossed his arms.

Jason stared at him. The replacement wasn’t backing down, while he was stubborn he usually cut straight to the point, which meant he didn’t think that Jason should be here and that this was just to comfort Dick and Bruce. He snorted.

“They were out of their minds with fear toxin.”

“You being MIA didn’t help with that,” Tim shot back.

Jason glared and then flipped on his side away from Tim. It was childish, but he wasn’t about to be lectured on health by a kid that existed on coffee and sandwiches. The chair scrapped as Tim stood up. He waited thirty seconds until he started to walk to the door.

“Bruce and Dick, did they come down here?”

The door swished open, “once each, Dr. Thompkins wouldn’t let them stay long or come down more than once, they were pretty messed up from the fear toxin.”

“We’re all messed up in this family.”

The door hissed shut.

* * *

The next time he awoke, it was because someone had invaded his personal space. He swatted at the intruder and then opened his eyes. To his surprise, Damian sat back on his heels at the end of the bed. The Demon looked smaller out of his uniform like he was just a… thirteen(?) year old kid. It was different, and it put Jason on alert. He didn’t expect an attack at the manor, but if there were to be one the likely candidates were Bruce or Damian, and with Bruce laid up…

“You’re awake.”

Jason blinked, “I am now.”

“The fever has broken then?” Damian tilted his head.

He was given the impression that Damian was studying him. Jason turned slightly, a test of his own. The side of the bed, the side with the mostly good ribs, was open and Damian glanced at it but instead shifted in place. It made Jason arch an eyebrow, when they were in Leslie’s clinic he had no issues with space, so something was different.

"I guess,” Jason shrugged, “was it as bad as Replacement was making it out to be?”

Damian mimicked the shrug, “Dr. Thompkins is of the opinion that if we had been any later in reaching you, you would have suffered severe damage of the leg or nervous system or perhaps death.”

 _Oh._ “How’d you even find out where I was?”

“Arsenal told us,” Damian replied, “when we got in contact with your Outlaws to determine if you had reached out to them…”

"Why?” Jason asked quietly.

“They were the most likely to know-” Damian paused and pursed his lips, “the others were concerned for you, considering the trauma your body had recently endured.”

Jason snickered but covered it up as a cough, it probably wouldn’t fool Damian, but the gesture should be appreciated. Dick was wearing off on the kid if he was starting to get social nuance.

“And Father wanted to thank you for giving Oracle the clue that saved them.”

“Really, he wanted to thank me?” Jason huffed a laugh.

Damian narrowed his eyes, “yes.”

 _Right, he’s protective of Bruce. Whatever._ “He didn’t believe me when I told him.”

“That I… cannot explain and Father will not say.”                       

_Is he pouting?_

“Let me guess, Alfred, kicked you out of Dick’s room?”

_Smooth, he won’t see through that topic change at all._

“Pennyworth believed I would rest more fitfully in my own room,” Damian responded.

Jason dropped his head against the pillow and managed to bit back a groan. Things never changed in this mansion. Either Alfred expected this conversation, or he wanted Damian to make the attempt before he wound back up in Dick’s room. Through semi-closed eyes he observed Damian. He looked like the little shit that he was, but Jason realized that it wasn’t the clothes that made Damian look small, but the fact that he was hunched over. It seemed like everyone forgot that this was a thirteen-year-old who had nearly lost three of his family members in the span of a week.

“You could stay down here,” Jason mumbled.

It was so quiet that either of them could deny the knowledge of the words’ existence. Damian blinked and then scowled at the wall before he curled up into the empty spot Jason had made for him. The brat was freezing. Jason held still until Damian’s breaths evened out before he carefully curled around the younger boy and pulled the blankets over them. Sleep escaped Jason for several hours.

* * *

Jason burrowed his head under the covers at the sound of china clinking together. He smelled the tea the moment Alfred entered the cave, no one could brew it like Alfred. Jason has tried and made sure that everything was identical, but it still didn’t taste the same. One of life’s great mysteries. For a second he debated on whether it was worth it to pretend to remain asleep, although he was curious as to where Damian ran off to.

“Dr. Thompkins has instructed me that you must eat with your antibiotics, something other than microwavable waffles,” Alfred said.

Jason grumbled and cautiously rolled onto his back, “I eat more than that.”

Alfred hummed noncommittedly, “not according to your safehouse kitchen.”

“How do you know what was in my kitchen?” Jason sighed.

Alfred was quiet for a minute, “Master Timothy looked through when attempting to find an ice pack.”

_That explains how he knew. At least they aren’t spying on me anymore._

“If you needed money for food- “

“I don’t need to be a charity case again. I managed on my own, better even,” Jason snapped.

He felt guilt almost immediately. Alfred was always kinder and had more patience with him than anyone else. Throwing his death in the face of the butler was cruel. The only person who remotely deserves it was Bruce, and even then, he really didn’t. There wasn’t a wound anymore to rub salt in, it was just an imperfectly healed scar. Jason threw his arm over his eyes.

“You are not a charity case,” Alfred said certain, “you wouldn’t be as trusted if you were.”

Jason mumbled under his breath, “that’s what you think.”

“It is.”

Alfred turned to leave the room, and Jason lifted the arm up high enough to watch Alfred’s back as he retreated out of the medical bay.

The smell of tea was eventually too overwhelming for Jason to ignore. Slowly he shifted into a sitting position. Thankfully Alfred had left the tray on the table that slotted over the bed, which kept Jason from having to twist his torso too much. He lifted the lid to the plate and he saw that it was one of his favorite breakfasts from his time in the manor. Jason glanced at the door and then started to wolf down his food.

"I see your appetite is back to normal,” Dr. Leslie remarked, which startled Jason out of his light doze.

“You don’t say no to Alfred’s cooking,” Jason shrugged.

Dr. Leslie raised an eyebrow, “so I’ve been told.”

Jason gave another half shrug.

“Both Bruce and Dick have been cleared to leave their rooms,” Dr. Leslie said while she wrote on her clipboard.

“They couldn’t before?” Jason snorted.

"I advised them to remain in the room while the rest of the toxin ran its course, and their physical injuries needed a couple of days of rest.”

Jason tilted his head.

“Superficial bruising,” Dr. Leslie answered.

She pressed the clipboard against her chest, “the infection is under control, and I think we’ve managed to prevent a return of pneumonia.”

“Great, I’ve gotten used to only breathing air again,” Jason snorted.

“Yes,” Dr. Leslie said with a touch of annoyance, “I imagine your lungs are fond of it as well. We’ll empty this bag and switch to tablet antibiotics.”

 Jason wrinkled his nose, “for how long?”

'"Ten days,” Dr. Leslie replied, “and crutches for the next couple of months once I let you out of this bed.”

“And when will you release me from my prison?” Jason rolled his eyes.

Dr. Leslie looked at her chart again, “two days minimum.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, you’re lucky the bone didn’t fracture beyond the plate,” she gave him a very unimpressed stare.

“Luck isn’t the word I would use,” Jason huffed.

Dr. Leslie’s lips quirked up, “well, I’ll leave the prescription with Alfred and I’ll drop by in two days to check on your leg.”

"I'll be here.”

* * *

 

Jason glanced out of the corner when the doors hissed open. He quickly returned his focus when he realized it was Bruce. It wasn’t unsurprising given that his room had been a cycle of Bats, although he was surprised it was so soon. Truthfully, he expected Dick to come down first or another visit from his younger brothers or Alfred. He pursed his lips and then closed the book.

Once Jason felt he waited long enough he turned his head and craned his neck to get a better angle on Bruce’s back.

Bruce frowned, “what are you doing?”

Jason smirked, “seeing if you were forced in here by sword point.”

“Damian is at school,” Bruce replied.

“I’m sure Talia is thrilled with your interest in maintaining his traditional education,” Jason snorted.

There was an awkward pause and Bruce raised his hands, “it’s to help him adjust.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, “that’s new.”

“Jason,” Bruce warned.

He crossed his arms, “Bruce.”

They stared at each other. Jason narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like that he still didn’t know what Bruce planned to do with him one he could stand on his own two feet. Things could be kept civil, if Bruce didn't act like he usually did when confronted with emotion.

Bruce sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, “I don’t want to fight.”

 Jason forced himself to relax slightly, “then what do you want?”

“I want to talk,” Bruce took a step forward.

Jason bit back the slightly hysterical laugh that almost left his throat and tilted his head towards the chair. Bruce’s eyes widened, and he slowly walked towards the chair. Jason had the weird notion that if he asked Bruce would leave. It was strange, but for the time being, he would see what Bruce had to say.

Jason crossed his arms and leaned back against the pillows. He allowed Bruce to stay but he wouldn’t speak unless he needed to.

Bruce cleared his throat, “I’m glad you’re okay, you had us all worried.”

“I’m sure,” Jason replied.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Bruce frowned, “and a lot has happened, but you are still part of this family.”

Jason winced. He knew that’s what they thought, but he wasn’t sure they were ready to accept that he wasn’t the same street-rat kid that stole tires from the Batmobile. It wouldn’t last, good things never did; but it was a problem that the Bats were blinded by family. Really, it was less painful in the long run to cut off the ties now.

“Yeah?” Jason spat, “then why didn’t you believe me about the fear toxin?”

“That was,” Bruce sighed and almost looked defeated, “a mistake on my behalf.”

 _What?_ Jason blinked. He looked around the room for any sort of camera. Dick had to have put him up to this as some sort of final bid to get him to stay because _Bruce_ never admitted to his faults to anyone but maybe Clark or Alfred.

“There wasn’t any gossip and none of my sources mentioned it, and there was no indication of large money sums of money being transferred electronically-”

“I’m not a source? You do know that these people talk to me because I’m one of them?” Jason interrupted.

Bruce grimaced, “I’m aware, I just…”

Jason waited for him to finish the statement. After several seconds, he assumed that Bruce wouldn’t finish the thought, “you couldn’t verify it.”

“That’s-”

“But,” Jason interjected, “what if it had come from literally anyone else in this family?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw but remained silent. Jason rolled his eyes and returned to his book. He would be able to leave in two days, he’d have to call Roy again, but it seemed like he would have a long enough break in his nightly routine that he could use to cash in on all his babysitting time of Lian. At least babysitting would be more useful than lounging around the manor while he waited for the other shoe to drop.

* * *

Jason was more than ready to leave two days later. Dick hadn’t stopped by yet, and according to Tim, he wasn’t in a good mood because he heard how Jason and Bruce’s conversation had gone. So, truthfully, Jason had expected to be able to leave the cave with little more fanfare than a box of pre-made meals from Alfred. Bruce had kept his distance since their conversation, which Jason was more than fine with. The Replacement had stopped by in the morning before heading off to his college classes. Damian hadn’t returned, but then again, he was probably taking Dick or Bruce’s side of things.

Which Jason was totally fine with, weird brotherly bonding moments aside.

Dick stepped into the room as confident as ever. Jason looked towards the ceiling wondering if he was cursed since it seemed like every time he thought about someone in this mansion they showed up.

“How are you feeling?” Dick asked.

Jason shrugged, he didn’t need to be on the defensive yet, “better now that I’m not going to be stuck in a bed all day, as much as I enjoyed catching up on my reading.”

"That’s good,” Dick snorted, “are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jason replied.

Dick raised an eyebrow, “I’ve heard that before.”

“And it’s almost always been true,” Jason shot back.

To his credit, Dick didn’t react to the jab, “I think you should stay here.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick. His shoulders tensed out of reflex, he wasn’t sure what Dick was about to pull out of his arsenal of “Guilt Trip Jason.”

“You could, it isn’t like we’ll kick you out.”

“It isn’t that,” Jason sighed.

“Then what is it?” Dick frowned, “we want you here, you’ll be safe!”

Jason shook his head, “You want me here as long as I don’t go AWOL.”

“Jay-”

“No, listen, Dick,” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, “maybe someday I’ll be able to stay in the manor, but let’s try not to push things before they’re ready.”

Dick opened his mouth and Jason cut him off, “if you really want me to be a part of this family again, you’ll have to respect that I’m not ready for things yet. There’s still a lot of… tension to work out between all of us.”

This time Dick’s eyes widened but he nodded, “call us if you need anything.”

Jason tossed his hand up in agreement and a farewell as he turned back to packing the duffle bag that Alfred had lent him to carry the items he’s accumulated while he was laid up. It was mostly clothes and books, but there was still enough that the bag made it easier to carry. He felt marginally bad that he had partly lied to Dick.  Maybe someday he would be able to stay in the mansion but that would likely never happen until he and Bruce had a full conversation, and that would only happen when Bruce started trusting him like his other sons (which was still a long way away, Jason tried to not let that sting). Jason knew that none of his brothers would complain about him staying, and Alfred and the girls would be relieved. It was just, as usual, it came down to Bruce.

He glanced around the medical bay, it was cold and clinical. It was built for efficiency and not for comfort. There had been a time when he would have been moved into his room once he was out of danger.

“Grayson is displeased with your choice.”

“ _Fucking_ hell _,_ Demon,” Jason jumped, “didn’t anyone ever tell you to make some noise?”

Damian raised an eyebrow, “you should be more aware of your surroundings.”

Jason shot the kid an unimpressed look, “shouldn’t you be at school?”

“We were released early today,” Damian responded, “and you are leaving today?”

“As soon as Roy gets off,” Jason responded.

“Pennyworth would have taken you to whichever safehouse you wanted.”

Jason huffed, “and have a swarm of bats outside of my window at all hours of the night, I’ll pass.”

Damian narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, “it would be wise for us to know where you are located.”

“Again, there’s a real lack of privacy that comes with that knowledge,” Jason replied, “besides I won’t be doing anything to warrant a visit.”

“Past experiences do not agree with that statement,” Damian glared.

Jason stared, and then bit his bottom lip. He had forgotten that Damian was still acting weird, it would probably take a few weeks until the rawness of the emotion faded.

“How about we make a deal?” Jason closed his eyes to ward off the wave feelings.

Damian tilted his head, “what kind of deal?”

“I’ll give you the location of my safehouse,” Jason saw the flicker of emotion on Damian’s face, “but you have to swear that you’ll keep it secret from everyone else.”

“And what purpose would only me knowing the location serve?”

Jason smirked, “you’ll know where I am, which means if you’re as well-trained as you like to think I won’t notice you checking in on me.”

Damian’s eyes widened briefly before his face returned to the neutral-almost-angry face it usually was, “agreed.”

He reached his hand out and Jason took it. This wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you all enjoyed! Constructive Criticism is welcome, as I said I've not worked with these characters with any practice so let me know how to tweak their characterization! Additionally, there's a second part in the work in Damian's POV but I haven't decided if I want to actually post it as a companion. I know there was a lot going on in this fic, and the ending feels a little abrupt, but this story would literally keep going. Uh yeah, thank you for reading!  
> Additional notes: I've never written Roy, I wanted to work on a different type of dynamic between Damian and Jason other than the "we both killed people one" (don't get me wrong its a good dynamic) and I tried to keep Jason from being just the Angry Son. Lemme know if I succeeded!


End file.
